Hospitalized
by Goddess of the Keyblades
Summary: Sherlock finds himself in hospital, and John is less than happy. Sherlock may be the smartest man on Earth, but he can be such an idiot at times. Oneshot.


**_Sherlock's thoughts are in italics_**

* * *

Sherlock awoke to find that his vision was hazy and he couldn't think straight. Where was he? How did he get there? Why was his head pounding? He tried to deduce his surroundings, but found that increasingly difficult given the fact that he could hardly see. He could, however, hear, and from the sounds around him, he managed to work out his location.

_Hospital. How dull._

So that answered the first question. His vision was slowly clearing, which confirmed that he was correct with his deduction. He just needed to work out why he was there. Could he be sick? No... He doesn't get sick. Injured? More likely.

He tried to get up, but found that when he moved, pain shot through his body. He gasped, then chastised himself for showing such weakness.

_Pain is only a state of mind. Ignore it, Sherlock, and it will go away._

As bothersome as the pain was, he found it a very useful clue as to why he was at the hospital. He located the source of his discomfort to his left leg, below his knee. He sat up, slowly this time, and examined it.

_Tibia Shaft Fracture. Not too serious. My headache suggests mild concussion and I think there is some bruising on my chest. Great. John's going to nag me about resting now.  
Where is John_ _anyway?_

'John?'  
'I'm over here.'  
Sherlock glanced over to his side, to see John sitting on a chair beside him, a worried look on his face.  
A long silence settled between them, before John finally spoke.  
'You-you Idiot, Sherlock! Are you okay? You've done some stupid things but that one was REALLY ridiculous! You...'  
Sherlock stared at him with that familiar glazed look in his eyes that meant he was thinking.  
'Oh God, please tell me you remember what happened. Loosing consciousness due to concussion is bad enou...'

_Shut up, John! I'm thinking!_

'...amnesia is even more worrying, why must you...'

___I was investigating a murder? YES! The murder of Janet Smith. Anderson had insisted that it was not suspicious, that the victim had just tripped down the stairs. But he's stupid and missed the obvious bruising on her chest that clearly meant she was pushed. Lestrade was going to use my analysis as the basis of a murder investigation, but Donovan, being the idiot that she is, insisted that then needed more proof before they could question Janet's family on the incident._  
_So I was searching for evidence. I... I don't remember the details. That's a nuisance. Still, I don't think it matters. I obviously didn't find anything, or I wouldn't have made my next move.  
Re-creating the scene.  
That's why I'm here now! The reason behind my __injuries! _

'John, calm down. I remember what happened.' Sherlock replied blankly.  
'Why do I get the feeling that you're lying to shut me up?'  
'I did tell you that so you'd shut up, yes. However, I am not lying. I do remember.'  
John clearly didn't believe him. His disapproving look said as much.  
Sherlock sighed.  
'I was re-creating the scene.' He began. 'I found no evidence that suggested the woman was murdered, other than those alarmingly obvious bruises. So I decided to prove my point to that 'know-it-all' Donovan. You wouldn't co-operate with me, though. All I wanted you to do was push me down the stairs, but you let your doctors instincts overrule your head.'  
John was fuming. 'I LET MY INSTINCTS OVERRULE MY HEAD?! You wanted to see if you could obtain the same wounds as Mrs Smith in attempt to back up your deduction. Did your ego overrule YOUR head? Of course I didn't co-operate. Remember what happened to poor Janet? SHE DIED! You could have died too!'  
Sherlock really didn't see the problem.

___Donovan pushed me much harder than John would. Yet, I'm still alive. What's the point in dwelling on what could have happened when it didn't. _

'Sherlock! Are you even listening?! You. Could. Have. DIED! And Donovan... She's been suspended!'  
Sherlock grinned at the the thought of Sally Donovan being suspended because of him.  
'This is NOT funny! You knew that if you annoyed her long enough, she'd push you. You can't go and manipulate people when you don't get what you want!'

___I didn't 'manipulate' her. I never told her to push me. I just wound her up to the extent that she would perform said action on her own. She was so angry, she didn't notice we where backing towards the stairs. I had just predicted when she'd lash out and made sure that I timed this moment to me standing in the same position as Janet was on the evening of the incident. Not my fault. Presides, s__uspention served her right for doubting me in the first place. _

'If you'd just done what I asked you too, Donovan wouldn't have been involved. So you can't blame me.'  
John gave up trying to reason with the man. He was impossible and annoying, and he was angry because he had just spent the past hour sitting next to his unconscious form, worried sick, and all he got was insults.  
He stood up and headed towards the door, deciding that he'd go for a walk.  
'John, wait!'  
'What do you want now!?'  
Sherlock detected the anger radiating from John, so he paused for a moment before talking.  
'Do they believe me now? I have the exact same wounds as Janet did, and everyone witnessed it first hand. So are they going to launch the investigation?'  
'Yes, Sherlock. They are.' John replied with a sigh. 'Are you happy now? You've gotten yourself hospitalized, Donovan suspended and you're going to need surgery on that leg.'  
Sherlock noted the sarcasm in his voice, but chose to ignore it. He closed his eyes and smiled.

___Of course I'm happy_! I've proved my point AND given myself a new case to solve! My re-creation was a success!

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_**As always, I don't own, or claim to own, Sherlock.  
Review, please? =)**_


End file.
